Sheep in Wolf's Clothing
by Pixagi
Summary: Maybe you're the real evil here. [Slash]
1. Sheep in Wolf's Clothing

You insufferable ponce.

You, you pretentious prick.

How dare you. How dare you turn the name Draco Malfoy into the mockery of the Slytherin House!

I see them, I see them staring at me, watching me. They're _watching _me I tell you! They know things noone should. Things noone _could_ know, Potty! I don't care what you say! _They all know!_

And I don't care if you're Harry "The-bloody-git-who-lived" Pothead! You have no right to turn me into, into this... _thing_! You have no right! I am the sole heir of the Malfoy fortunes! A Pureblood of the highest breeding! How _dare _you make me...

How dare you enter my thoughts against my will. How dare you fill my dreams with those haunting, startling, beautiful green eyes of yours. How dare you fill my mind at all hours of the day with images of your lean, strong tan body atop my own. How dare you make it impossible for me to remove your sent from my clothes, my hair, my body...

...my memory.

I can't forget, I can't forget what it's like to feel you moving inside me, filling me and bringing me so painfully slow to my climax I want to tear your scarred skin to shreds. Skin that has been subjugated to the most inhumane and primitive of tortures and yet still so responsive to the slightest of touches.

My touch.

I revel in the knowledge that I can bring the same pleasure to you that you arouse in me. I hate you for making me believe I'm the only one that can do this to you. I know I can't be the only one, I know I know I know that if I saw anyone take you to the same places I've taken you, I'd die. I'd let the Womping Willow tear my body to shreds and toss the pieces out for the wind to scatter to the Forbidden Forest.

You terrify me.

You control me in ways that noone has. I let you twist me, turn me, contort me in ways I never thought possible and all singlehandedly. With a look you turn me into an obedient shadow of my former self, but noone can ever now this. Not even you. The minute I see you I must put on my mask and trace the steps of my well choreographed dance as to never let you know of how deep my obsession runs.

Our nightly rendevous, our long hours spent covered in the ancient potion that is the mixture of our sweat, the confessions uttered into each others ears must be our little secret. Neither Crabbe nor Goyle, or the Granger girl and her pet Weasel can know. Not yet. Not ever.

They can never know how well you know every curve and dip of my body, or the reactions you will receive by touching certain parts.

I am raveled up in you. Lost in a sea of emeralds I don't think I'll ever be able to escape your stare, your caress. I know you want to scream it from the top of the Astronomy Tower, but you wont. You wont because you want to protect me. Did it ever occur to you that I want to keep this hidden to protect you? You, the angel of the public eye, demon in the sheets with the son of a Death Eater who is currently sitting in Azkaban? Do you know what would happen to you? Do you? Voldemort would try to use me to get to you, your followers would turn from you and the papers, my _God_ Harry, the papers would pick you apart! I can't see that happen to you, I...

There, you almost made me say it again.

Boy, you do interesting things to me.

My outer appearance is the same as it always was; cold, quick and calculating with a self righteous sneer.

But _me?_ I'm differant now, you've changed me, I think. Or is this who I've always been, and I've worn the mask for so long I've forgotten who I really am; a sheep in wolf's clothing.

Does this make you the real evil here? Does this mean that you're the manipulative, conniving ponce here? Have you been stringing me along? Wrapping me tighter and tighter around those perfect fingers that I've allowed to travel along my skin? What are your intentions? Perhaps I'm the key you need to unlock the door to Voldemort. Perhaps Snape told you how close I am to the inner circle. Perhaps.

Or maybe you don't give a rats ass about your supposed destiny. Maybe you have your own sick and twisted reasons for holding me the way you do. Kissing me and stroking me in ways that make me want to tell you all of my dark little secrets. Maybe.

Maybe.


	2. Director's Commentary

_**This, my dears, is the director's cut. This is my take on what exactly is happening to Draco in this little story. If you wish to see my little commentary, proceed, for commentary is certainly what you'll get. However, if you wish not to be tainted by my idea of and ego boost, flee (to "I Control You," the sequel)!**_

You insufferable ponce.

You… you pretentious prick.-_**I have this belief that no matter how serious a story is, there has to be something to laugh at, 'cause no one's life is really so melodramatic that funny shit doesn't randomly happen when there's serious angst happening. No one's life is that badly scripted.**_

How dare you. How dare you turn the name Draco Malfoy into the mockery of the Slytherin House?!

I see them, I see them staring at me, watching me. They're _watching _me I tell you! They know things no one should. Things no one _could_ know, Potty! I don't care what you say! _They all know!__**-To put it lightly, Draco is becoming a tad nutty. I assure you, it's all Harry's fault. Not to mention that he was always a touch paranoid when it comes to what other people are thinking. Comes with being a Slytherin.**_

And I don't care if you're Harry "_The-bloody-git-who-lived_" Pothead! You have no right to turn me into... into this... _thing_! You have no right! I am the sole heir of the Malfoy fortunes! A Pureblood of the highest breeding! How _dare _you make me...-_**Hello, it's confession time…**_

How dare you enter my thoughts against my will. How dare you fill my dreams with those haunting, startling, beautiful green eyes of yours. How dare you fill my mind at all hours of the day with images of your lean, strong tan body atop my own. How dare you make it impossible for me to remove your scent from my clothes, my hair, my body...

...my memory.-_**Simply, Draco is loosing control of himself. Ever so slightly, all those years of conditioning and breeding his father instilled in him are going bye-bye. Love does that to a person. It twists your priorities in a big way.**_

I can't forget... I can't forget what it's like to feel you moving inside me, filling me and bringing me so painfully slow to my climax I want to tear your scarred skin to shreds. Skin that has been subjugated to the most inhumane and primitive of tortures and yet still so responsive to the slightest of touches.-_**The realization that Harry's life is what it is horrifies Draco to no end.**_

My touch._**-This little fact delights him to no end.**_

I revel in the knowledge that I can bring the same pleasure to you that you arouse in me. I hate you for making me believe I'm the only one that can do this to you. I know I can't be the only one, I know, I know, I know that if I saw anyone take you to the same places I've taken you, I'd die. I'd let the Womping Willow tear my body to shreds and toss the pieces out for the wind to scatter to the Forbidden Forest. –_**Draco likes to fantasize about his own death. As he gets older, it gets bloodier. This is just **_**one **_**of the things he's thought about doing if this situation should occur.**_

You terrify me. –_**Harry has this effect on people. Especially when said person's heart has been invaded after every precaution to prevent such a horrible thing from happening.**_

You control me in ways that no one has. I let you twist me, turn me, contort me in ways I never thought possible and all single-handedly. With a look you turn me into an obedient shadow of my former self, but no one can ever know this. Not even you. The minute I see you I must put on my mask and trace the steps of my well choreographed dance as to never let you know of how deep my obsession runs. –_**Draco is all about appearances. To allow**_ **anyone **_**to know that he's less then in control he understands is a very dangerous thing indeed. To allow **_**Harry** _**to know of his obsession would be far worse for various reasons.**_

Our nightly rendezvous, our long hours spent covered in the ancient potion that is the mixture of our sweat, the confessions uttered into each others ears must be our little secret. Neither Crabbe nor Goyle, or the Granger girl and her pet Weasel can know. Not yet. Not ever.

They can never know how well you know every curve and dip of my body, or the reactions you will receive by touching certain parts. –_**Draco toys with the idea of he and Harry becoming an official item and telling everyone, be damned of the consequences, but then pulls back those very thoughts quickly.**_

I am raveled up in you. Lost in a sea of emeralds, I don't think I'll ever be able to escape your stare, your caress. I know you want to scream it from the top of the Astronomy Tower, but you wont. You wont because you want to protect me. Did it ever occur to you that I want to keep this hidden to protect you? You, the angel of the public eye, demon in the sheets with the son of a Death Eater who is currently sitting in Azkaban? Do you know what would happen to you? Do you? Voldemort would try to use me to get to you, your followers would turn from you and the papers, my _God_ Harry, the papers would pick you apart! I can't see that happen to you, I... –**...love you too much to watch you suffer any more then you have. I love you too much to watch you be torn apart by the very vultures who made you such a public figure. By the vultures who turned an 11 year old little boy who'd just found out about his own fame and legacy while becoming aware of this enchanting little world into the Messiah and damned him to years of fighting, bleeding and loss because he's "special."**

_**Draco, quite frankly, is afraid of commitment, and just about anything else that may be good for him that relies on another person. In a way, he's very smart to worry about this. In another way, he needs to stop thinking and just do.**_

There, you almost made me say it again.

Boy, you do interesting things to me. –_**That he does.**_

My outer appearance is the same as it always was; cold, quick and calculating with a self righteous sneer. –_**This is a very practiced art, my dears. Draco took years to prefect the face of the Malfoy Heir. His father expects no less of his only son.**_

But _me?_ I'm different now, you've changed me, I think. Or is this who I've always been, and I've worn the mask for so long I've forgotten who I really am; a sheep in wolf's clothing. -_**Hence the title of the story. A sheep in wolf's clothing, something mild and meek pretending to be the cold predator.**_

Does this make you the real evil here? Does this mean that you're the manipulative, conniving ponce here? Have you been stringing me along? Wrapping me tighter and tighter around those perfect fingers that I've allowed to travel along my skin? What are your intentions? Perhaps I'm the key you need to unlock the door to Voldemort. Perhaps Snape told you how close I am to the inner circle. Perhaps. –_**Here lies Draco's true fears, that he, the ringleader, the top dog, the abuser, is being used by someone who should be pure, who he knows is far from it. Harry's golden boy image was destroyed for Draco when they began their little trysts in the Astronomy Tower, when he learned just how calculating Harry could be, and just how much of a Slytherin Harry truly is. This, in short, is why he can't let Harry see what it is exactly the boy does to him.**_

Or maybe you don't give a rats ass about your supposed destiny. Maybe you have your own sick and twisted reasons for holding me the way you do. Kissing me and stroking me in ways that make me want to tell you all of my dark little secrets. Maybe.

Maybe. –_**Maybe is a very pretty dream. Some dreams, however, don't have to stay that way.**_


End file.
